


Lover Of The Light

by R_Miranda (orphan_account)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: ADHD, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Bitterness, Bounty Hunters, Canonical Character Death, Cassian Andor-centric, Character Death, Depression, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Family, Expectance, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, I'm Sorry Lin-Manuel Miranda, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Loss, Loss of Identity, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Movie: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Original Character(s), Poe Dameron Is A Mess, Poetry, Sadness, Smuggling, Spice, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, War, add, legacy, smuggler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/R_Miranda
Summary: I know I tried, I was not stableFlawed by pride, I miss my sanguine eyes.General Cassian Andor, hero of the Rebellion, legend among the Resistance.Commander Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen Erso, another legend among the Resistance.Jaír Andor Erso wasn’t like his parents, he had never been something resembling what his parents were. He wasn’t a hero. He was everything his parents hated of themselves.  But when the Resistance needs of his skills, he will have to face the legacy of who his parents were. And who he is.
Relationships: Bodhi Rook/Luke Skywalker, Cassian Andor & Kes Dameron, Cassian Andor & Original Character(s), Cassian Andor & Poe Dameron & Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor & Rey, Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Jessika Pava/Original Male Character(s), Leia Organa/Han Solo, Poe Dameron & Jessika Pava, Poe Dameron & Jyn Erso, Poe Dameron/Finn, Poe Dameron/Jessika Pava, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Shara Bey/Kes Dameron, Zorii Bliss/Poe Dameron
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is called “what if Cassian and Jyn’s kid was like this loser who really can’t or doesn’t know how to live up to his parents name and decides to leave what they fought for but hey, they need him again, so chop chop”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In the middle of the night, I may watch you go. There'll be no value in the strength of walls that I have grown._

He moved with hurry yet stealth through the crowd, trying his best to not look hurried. It was not good if he looked hurried. Even if he was. He passed dozens of people, looking as hurried as him, he tried to pass as someone who had their own business, their own life, someone with a purpose. The Ring of Kafrene was probably not the best place to be a man with a purpose but Jaír didn’t care. Kafrene was still a shit hole, it was worse than before, he speculated, the buildings looked like they were gonna collapse in each other and the people living there seemed content that the First Order’s presence was heavily influenced there.

As he passed through crowds, Jaír remembered the stories his father would tell him when he was young, the sudden idea that he might as well be walking the same steps he had walked decades ago, passed his mind and became a knot in his throat. He shook it lightly, his father had come to Kafrene with orders to find about the planet killer which then unclenched a serie of events in which the outcome would be the destruction of the Death Star and his mother and he as heroes. Jaír was in that shit hole cause he was meeting with a potential buyer for the contraband he had inside his ship and finally buy himself out of that system. Nothing like his father’s mission.

In fact, his father would be very disappointed in him.

He took a turn and entered the bar that his contact was supposedly to be in. It looked like the typical shitty bar, species from all corners of the galaxy were sitting in the shitty chairs, some glaring at Jaír when he came in. He ignored them as he sat down. In his head, he tried to make inventory, see his exits if anything went south, he remembered his blaster was tucked in his coat, he had a knife on his left boot and if things went south, he had the skills to take any of those assholes down.

He ordered a drink while waiting. He looked at his watch, he knew that his buyer was running late. He glanced at the man who kept glaring at his since he came in, a dark-skinned human reading something resembling a newspaper, he looked oddly familiar to Jaír. He bit his lip and took a drink out of his cup, he wondered about his father’s stories, how many of those were true and how many of those were a white lie to try to paint the horrors of living a war.

The human kept glancing his way and Jaír was about to ask the man if he was his buyer or if he had a problem with him but suddenly, he felt someone else sit next to him and press their hand on his shoulder.

“You’re a difficult man to find, Jaír,” a warm but authoritarian voice spoke.

It had been ages since he had heard his name come from the mouth of someone who wasn’t himself. He remembered his parents calling him, his uncles, his friends, that name was in the past. It made him stop for a second then realized who had spoken.

Jaír looked at the newcomer and smiled with bitterness. “And you have aged really badly, Poe.”

Perhaps, Jaír was right, Poe had had his share of unwanted problems and fights, he looked heavily exhausted, big bags under his eyes, his black hair ruffled with the hat but the same determination in his eyes. The same foolish hope Jaír’s parents had when they brought him to the Resistance.

“We need you.”

“Oh yeah? And who’s _we_?”

“General Organa, of course,” Poe’s voice was one of respect and admiration but it wasn’t shared by Jaír.

“Tell _Organa_ that I don’t work for the Resistance anymore. She should be searching elsewhere if she wants to find allies.”

“Come on, Jaír. You were, after all, the best Intelligence officer we—”

“No, Poe,” the smuggler cut him off and harshly threw his hand away. “My _father_ was the best spy you had.”

The pilot frowned upon those words. Without moving his head fully upward, he looked at the dark-skinned human that nodded back. “The Ring of Kafrene, huh? Quite ironic of you to go where it all started. I’m sure you heard the tales of what Rogue One did, everyone else has.”

Jaír stopped for a second and contemplated his drink. Who the fuck was Poe Dameron to bring him back to a fight that he didn’t want to be a part of? Just because Ben, their friend, had turned into the next Vader, because Poe had always been obsessed with the stories of heroes and villains. Jaír knew that deep down, Poe was glad a new war had started, it meant he could live in full glory the tales that his father and mother had told him. To make his own glorious stories filled with unattended odds and attractive heroes.

He was the son of heroes.

Jaír had never seen the war as a glorious thing. His father had told him hundreds of stories about his time in it, though none with a happy or prideful smile on his face. The stories he had heard about the war had been in gray areas, the villains in it were much more difficult to spot and sometimes the heroes disappointed. His father had told him about the grave consequences of living and surviving a war, told Jaír to try to avoid it if possible, saying that once you were in it, it had held on you that could never be broken. That was clear when against everything, his father still chose to help the very thing that took everyone from him.

Jaír wasn’t a hero at all. He was _survivor_.

He took a drink. “I’m not interested in playing hero in your little rebellion. The smuggling business is prosperous, I think I’m right where I want to be in life, Dameron.”

“A _smuggler_? Come on, Jaír, I knew you well once, and I’m sure I’d remember if you ever said that your goal in life was to become a ‘ _prosperous smuggler_ ’, mmh?”

The man reading the newspaper shot another glance at Jaír and Poe. He was restless, it seemed, eager to get out of this place. Jaír quickly realized that he wasn’t going to get out of there without Poe. Nonetheless, he was ready to stall as long as the dashing pilot would let him. Just to spite them both. Just to spite the memory of his father. The memory of a man claimed and praised as a hero yet ending up being everything he didn’t want to be for his son.

“Didn’t they fight a fucking war so I wouldn’t?” Jaír scoffed. “Didn’t they risk their lives for me?”

“Jaír, you know they tried, they — just like my mom, tried so hard to shield us from this. We just had bad luck,” Poe’s tone was softer, younger. Though Jaír was a couple months older than him, it felt like the pilot wanted to _comfort_ him.

 _Well, I tried as well. I tried so hard to be dad, so hard to be who he was. Look where I am today_ , Jaír thought grimly as he looked at his drink. _I would be better off dead_.

A sudden silent engulfed him as he realized he said that last part out loud, to be heard by Poe and whoever the guy reading the newspaper was. He didn’t dare react, knowing it would only worsen the whole thing. In fact, all Jaír wanted to do was crawl in a hole and stay there, he wanted to escape his family, the war, Poe, he wanted to escape it all. He didn’t want it to be coming back and bitting him in the ass. Not even if the galaxy depended on it.

Where was Cassian Andor when you needed him?

Gone. Like he always was. Just this time, he wouldn’t come back with those melancholic eyes of his, Jaír knew Cassian Andor was gone for worse or good. Right now it seemed for worse.

“I have a ship filled with spice that’s worth at least a thousand credits. What’s your plan about that? Or has the Resistance sank that low to use spice to survive?” Jaír sneered as he took the last drink out of that cheap alcohol.

Poe, in return, smirked. He had that smirk that would be plaster on his face when he had a great idea. In fact, it seemed he was waiting for that question. “You can always give it to Zorii, it might seem an act of goodwill.”

 _Fucking hell_ , Jaír thought once again. He had forgotten that before becoming a Rebel, Poe had been a smuggler for the Spice Runners of Kijimi. If he had any suspicions about why Leia Organa made him be the one recruiting him, they were long gone now. But even if Poe had been a smuggler, he had always known what he wanted, deep inside himself he always knew that it would never be the life he wanted for himself.

Jaír, in the other hand, was lost ever since he was a little kid. He vaguely remember his uncle Bodhi talking to his parents one long night when the little boy was suppose to be asleep, but being the curious child Jaír was, he had eavesdropped just to hear the blunt and cold truth indirectly of him.

He snapped out of it and remembered he was no longer a child and his uncle wasn’t there with him. Instead, he scoffed. “Give my hard work to the competition? You just want her to own me a favor so you can use it in the name of Resistance. Not for goodwill.”

“Sharp as ever, Jaír. But it wouldn’t be the competition because you would no longer be a smuggler. You would be a Commander.”

A commander. The man in charge of the Resistance’s intelligence. Which, if he remembered well, wasn’t much. His father had complained a lot about the lack of resources and volunteers. It wasn’t like in his time, which, again, was saying a lot. What good would come out of this? Jaír Andor Erso wasn’t a leader, he wasn’t like the people who had carried his names before him. He wasn’t Galen Erso, the man who confronted the Empire; he wasn’t Alejandro Andor, one of the first Festians to rise up against the empire. And he sure as hell wasn't Jyn Erso or Cassian Andor.

All he was wasn’t worth the names he carried. He should better be left alone to lament his own burden in the ground. In a nowhere planet. And perhaps then, he would be at peace.

“Do you think they would be proud of us,” he spoke, slipping into his native tongue, Festian, knowing well that Poe would understand but made the other guy furrow his eyebrows at the sudden change. “Of who we have become?”

This time, Poe was the one caught by surprise. It had been a long time since he heard that language, to be honest, his father hadn’t taught him much about it, not like Cassian Andor did to Jaír. Poe remembered that Jaír would only speak Festian when he truly meant something, when he demanded an answer, when he _needed_ the answer.

Poe Dameron had forgotten who he had wanted to be before becoming a pilot of the Resistance. He knew that somewhere in his mind, there were other options stained by the naïveté and grandiose imagination of a child but he could not remember those options nor if his parents would be proud.

A spy would lie.

A pilot would be honest.

But a friend would sacrifice honesty for a white lie to protect a loved one. And Poe deemed Jaír to be a good friend, if not for him, then for his mother and father.

“They were proud of us then, I don’t see why they wouldn’t be proud of us now. Personally, I think our parents are proud of us,” the old language sounded rusty on him, but not broken, never broken.

A scoff. Jair reverted back to Basic. “If I would accept your kind offer, you still haven’t told me why you need me, and I don’t accept anything unless I’m told all the details.”

Poe laughed. “I’m afraid that even though we need you, we still have to protect the—”

“For what? It’s not like you guys can do anything against _Ben_.”

Ben.

Ben Solo, son of Han Solo and Leia Organa. Longtime friend of Poe and Jaír.

That threw Poe off by a lot. He remembered his time locked away, been used as a puppet and then left to die. How _Kylo Ren_ had gotten inside his head and not only found what he was looking for but also great memories that deserved to had been left alone but had had been sacked and violated to make Poe feel utterly alone. And vulnerable.

No, it hadn’t been Ben who did this, that kind guy had died long ago. This was a monster, a monster that deserved what was coming for him.

But the fact was that Poe stumbled on his words after hearing Ben’s name. “—the,” he paused. “The—the organization. I’m afraid I can’t tell you u—until you agree to our call for he—help.”

 _For fuck’s sake, Dameron, get it together, this is the son of Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso, he will do everything and anything to get his way_ , Poe mentally slapped himself. He couldn’t afford being distracted. Yet, he made a mental note that Jaír didn’t mind hitting people he knew in the exact place he knew would hurt them the most just to get what he wanted. It meant he was dangerous. More than the General expected.

He could no longer stall. Giving a last glance at Finn, Poe knew they had to leave—

_Stormtroopers._

Jaír saw Poe’s jaw tense and his eyes suddenly spark with a worried fire. He could not help but look at what had made such impression on him. He soon found himself with a similar spark as the one of his oldest friend. But not out of worry. Out of excitement. Stormtroopers. Five of them, and who knew how many outside, they looked like they were on duty. Most of the bar didn’t pay attention to them, shot them dirty looks but nothing more.

That was his ticket out of there. He was sure Poe hadn’t predicted five stormtroopers to enter the bar. They were searching for him by the looks of it. Which made sense, Poe Dameron, the second-in-command for the Resistance, a valuable asset, more if he knew where the last Jedi was.

Jaír hadn’t been long enough in the Resistance for the First Order to take him as a threat that needed to be hunted down. His parents were the ones hunted down. As far as Jaír knew, the First Order did know Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso had a kid but they didn’t know who or where the kid was. For those stupid stormtroopers, he was Joreth Dawn, a trader who just happened to be caught in this mess. And even if they knew who the fuck he was, he was sure that Ben would pay more to know where the Jedi was than to reunite with a long lost friend.

All he had to do now was just wait until the first stormtrooper, the one who kept eyeing the drinkers in search of someone, put himself in an angle where Jaír would be hidden but Poe wouldn’t. His left hand went, all too quietly and without movement, to the blaster hidden in his coat. The other stormtroopers would think it was Poe who had shot and they would go for him. Giving Jaír a chance to escape.

It was cruel, throwing his oldest friend to the mouth of the wolves. But he knew he could take care of it. In fact, he was sure those stormtroopers wouldn’t catch Poe. The man had broken himself out of Ben’s hold. He could take it. And that would be a lesson to never try to cage something that wasn’t meant to be caged.

He smirked. “You know, for being the son of Shara Bey and Kes Dameron, you forgot one small detail in your amazing talk.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Poe’s tone sounded ragged as he tensed his shoulders and gritted his teeth.

“My mother had knocked out three guys, breaking one’s nose, and had to be stopped by a tall as fuck droid, before they got _her_ to the Rebellion.”

Poe’s eyes widened as he realized what Jaír was going to do.

“Jaír no—!”

Too late.

The sound of the blaster echoed on the walls as chaos and violence started. It was all a blur, to be honest. He knew shooting had started when the rays of light flew over his head, bodies fell, bodies ran, he didn’t know it himself but he also began running, he couldn’t distinguish where Poe and that other guy was. Screams and voices everywhere. All Jaír knew was that he needed to get out of there alive.

Ironically, he remembered what his mother taught him if he ever found himself in this situation. Head for the exits, don’t look back, do everything to pull yourself together and fight. Which was exactly was he was doing. The near exit was the one the entrance but he knew there was another one, by default, in the back. He had only single goal. Leaving.

More stormtroopers came, he was forced to shoot various. One almost hitting him in the head but thank the Force for their stupid aim. They didn’t recognize him but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stay there so they could. He moved through the chaos with elegance and quickness. Being careful in using that old metal tray as a shield and shooting the stormtroopers before they knew what hit them.

He felt the pull of someone, immediately, he dropped the tray and with his right hand, grabbed the arm and with all his upper body strength, he pulled the person and threw them at the nearest table, breaking it; it was Poe’s friend. Another hand touched his shoulder and this time, Jaír turned around and with the blaster on his hand, punched the person in the nose, making them stumble and lose their grip on his shoulder. It was Poe.

“For fuck’s sake! Goddamn it!” He cursed as blood stained his nose. “You fucking idiot!”

Jaír was about to make a witty comment when he felt the sharp, numbing pain of being shot which made him fall. Couldn’t say he hadn’t been shot before, sadly, a spy was a soldier at the end of the day. But he didn’t want to feel it again. Fuck that, right?

Before he could panic, he tried to pinpoint the place he had been shot. He felt the numb, electric pain start from his right arm. He didn’t have time to look at it for he had been pulled up by Poe who held a blaster up high and shot everything moving and white. They were heading for the backdoor.

 _I rather die than going back_ , Jaír thought as he broke out of Poe’s grip. The pilot looked incredulous.

“Don’t do this,” Poe whispered.

Battle was never the place of dialogue. Jaír didn’t listen to him, or rather ignored him as he took the knife he had stored out his boot and began swinging at Poe. The pilot, still shocked and now surprised at the attack, had barely dodged the first swing when the second one came at him. He felt the sharp blade cut through his cheek and stumble a bit on his feet. He took a millisecond to touch his face but couldn’t differentiate the blood of the cut of the blood of his nose.

If Kaytoo was there, he would’ve loved to tell the son of Cassian, that the odds of him winning a fight with a guy with a blaster and him with a broken arm, were basically impossible. He would’ve loved to tell him that the best thing was to surrender. Oh, and he would’ve chastised him for being so stubborn like his mother. The son wouldn’t care. He didn’t care. As he struck down again.

Thanks to the distraction that was Jaír, the stormtroopers began filling up the bar, the only reason he hadn’t been fully shot was thanks to the fact Poe’s friend was shooting those he could. Jaír knew he wasn’t doing it for him, it was Poe who he was trying to protect. But he knew that his blaster wouldn’t be enough.

The second thing on Jaír’s mind was to take that blaster out of Poe’s hand. The pilot was still avoiding his strikes, not using the blaster which meant some kind of emotional tie was holding him back. Yet he would come to his senses that Jaír wasn’t holding back and the instinct of surviving would be much bigger than whatever friendship they had.

The third thing on Jaír’s mind was not bleeding out from the blaster shot. He figured it had, perhaps, been clean but still, his head throbbed, his vision was blurry, the ground in which he stood unstable and his heart racing. The adrenaline was making it pump faster which meant more blood loss. If he didn’t leave soon, he would drop dead. And he didn’t know how to feel if the whole galaxy knew the son of Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso had died in a nowhere asteroid ring, in a nowhere bar.

Poe had known Cassian Andor, he had trained with him and known him for most of his life as _Uncle Cass_. Many times as they grew, Poe became aware of how Jaír was the spitting image of his father. Dark hair, cold stare, thin face and he even stood like him. His eyes, though black as his father’s, reminded everyone who met the kid, of Jyn Erso. Poe had trained with her as well, and he thought he could differentiate between Andor’s fighting style and Jyn’s. It was easy.

Andor fought quietly, boldly and quick, knowing who he had to strike and tried to strike with the less use resources he could. 

Erso fought with all she got with anything she had until her opponent had enough or had dropped dead.

Jaír’s style was a mix of those two. Almost animalistic but intelligent. His strikes were hard and heavy but quick enough so Poe didn’t have time to answer. To strike back. He avoided the few punches he gave with grace, like his father, then waiting for the right moment to bring his anger down again, just like his mother. In fact, Jaír seemed angry, enraged, striking to hurt not to warn. He wanted to hurt Poe.

“You have to control him or we will die here!” He heard Finn shout. “If we don’t leave now, we’re done!”

Poe’s mind began racing. He needed to find a place where he could shoot Jaír but wouldn’t be life threatening, just enough to make him pass out either of pain or blood loss. He knew, in the back of his head, anywhere could be fatal. But he need to act now.

The opening came and Poe shot him near his foot.

Jaír lost his footing and collapsed on the ground. The adrenaline was beginning to fade and the aches of his battle were weighing even more. The ringing of his ears was becoming too loud and the pain on his right arm too unbearable. But he wouldn’t back down, he couldn’t stand down. He had to leave, he had to leave before they could come back for him. Before they would pull him back to the place he had nightmares of.

“You fought bravely,” Poe’s voice pierced the ringing on his ears and his hand once again pulled him up. “But it’s time to go, you lost.”

This time, exhausted by the injuries substained, Jaír didn’t resist. He let Poe lead him anywhere. Holding to the knife as if was too important to lose. In the back of his mind, he was angry at himself for such stupid and failed plan. He knew he should be grateful that he had been saved, he was going to live another day. But he was mad, enraged that he was going back. His anger, just like it did every day, turned quickly into shame and sadness.

Jaír didn’t know when they left the bar. He felt the cold breeze, he smelled the awful air and heard the collective voice of the society. But he didn’t care. He only cared about his ship, the spice that was in it and the fact he was going back.

“My ship,” he croaked but didn’t know if Poe had heard him. Or if his friend had.

It didn’t matter, it was over. Jaír was a failure like always. He wanted to go back to Fest, where his bed was always warm and cozy. He felt the tears build up and the knot on his throat come back. All that he wanted in the world now was to crawl back into his bed and cry like he was a eleven-years-old boy again.

He zoned out and the next thing he knew, he was in his ship, though not like a pilot. He was pulled aside. His vision still weak and feeling the pull of the exhaustion, he managed to see a bacta patch and Poe’s friend looking at him worrisome. Jaír couldn’t distinguish if that was a dream or reality. But he didn’t care.

The last of his strength was used as he gave out a ragged, heartbreaking, enraged cry.

He cursed Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso.

He had lost. Again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Now I bear little resemblance to the king I once was I bear little resemblance to the king I could become_

Poe had had his fair share of trouble throughout his decorated career as a rebel. Hell, he still remember the trouble he was caught in when he was a smuggler. He shouldn’t be surprised, giving the fact he hadn’t seen his best friend in seven years. He should’ve expected that sort of behavior but really, he didn’t think it would go to that point.

He felt the tingling pain on his nose, unable to breathe from it, he had to breathe through his mouth which didn’t help the fact that he tasted the metallic flavor of his own blood. But, he had gotten what he came for. Bloodied and injured but he figured that not all of his plans could’ve be great, he thanked the Force this one had just the loss of their ship as a setback.

“Are you sure this is the son of General Andor and Commander Erso?” Finn’s voice broke the delicate silence as he entered the cockpit. “He sure as fuck doesn’t look like them.”

That reminded Poe of the harsh, awful cry his old friend had given before passing out again. It sounded too painful and made the pilot flinched. And when he went to check up on him, even in his sleep, Jaír couldn’t seem to be at peace.

“Well, genetically, yeah. He is the son of Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso. You saw him in action, he learned from Rogue One, he learned from the best,” he said. “He seems, however, a bit confused.”

“A bit confused? A _bit_ confused? For fuck’s sake, he threw me across the room to end up falling on a table, my back hurts as hell. He punched you in your face and then proceeded to try and knife you. This guy is _definitely_ not just a bit confused, Poe.”

The pilot sighed, he regretted it immediately as it brought pain. Finn realized that and grabbed the med kit, he opened it and brought some tissue and alcohol to Poe’s view. He accepted it, flinching at the alcohol touching the cut on his face and stuffing his nose trying to wipe the dried blood off.

“It’s broken,” Finn said as he touched it ever so slightly and Poe pained expression. “He broke it for you. And because we don’t have more in depth medical care, it’s gonna hurt a lot more when we return to set it straight.”

“Don’t blame Jaír,” Poe shook his head when he saw the annoyance in Finn’s face. “Look, I’m angry too, he broke my nose and was ready to hurt me. But don’t go too harsh on him. He wasn’t like this all the time.”

“It’s still weird, General Andor never mentioned having a kid neither did Commander Erso. I didn’t know they had a son until a few months ago when you told me.”

“They had a complicated relationship. Jaír, he is a really good agent, one of the best the Republic ever had. It’s just that things were complicated, they got too complicated.”

Finn heard the strain in the voice of his friend. He knew something was wrong. He almost had the urge to go back to see the injured man laid on the floor. It didn’t make sense. That man, he looked a lot like General Andor but he didn’t act like you expected the son of General Andor to act. Finn thought the man wasn’t who they said he was until he saw him fight. He knew how to fight, skilled, much more skilled than him, the bruises and pains in his back and arm were a clear example of it. That man was driven by a goal that was more important than the well being of the galaxy.

Then, he lost all of his strength and just looked like an empty shell of who he had to be. Finn didn’t know if it was the blood loss or something else but he didn’t mind Poe holding unto him like a rag doll, leading him anywhere he wanted. He just managed to say something that resembled the line _ship_ and then seemed lost in his thoughts.

The scream, the scream was one of the most pained and heartbreaking screams that Finn had ever heard, and that was saying a lot given the fact he lived most of his life in the First Order’s rule.

“What are the guy’s skills?”

Poe smiled, feeling slightly nostalgic for the youth that had escaped from his hands a while ago. “At the age of eighteen, he joined the New Republic’s fleet, a year before me, and it was two years later that he got recruited by General Organa, again, a year before me. Even though he was a good pilot, he decided to follow his father’s footsteps and join the Intelligence branch. He was the best out them, he reached the rank of Captain at twenty-two.”  
  
Then, the nostalgic moment fell and his eyes became softer. “He is very manipulative, he knows how to read people, he knows how to speak in front of them. He is a chameleon, he can make you think he’s really sorry for something while backstabbing you. Great at sabotage too. He was a great friend. But things too complicated and deserted when he was twenty-five.”

“He deserted?”

“General Andor and he got into an argument over something. I don’t know the details myself. But I know it had something to do with General Organa and Commander Erso. The next day, Jaír doesn’t clock in and we find there’s a missing ship. The council concluded he deserted but wasn’t a threat to the Resistance.”

“Oh,” Finn sighed. Then, with all the bravery he could muster, he asked. “Does he know that his parents, you know, are dead?”

Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso, legends of the Resistance, had died while trying to distract some Star Destroyers. Though the original plan was for them to distract and then let Poe and the Black Squadron take care of the rest. They had come a bit too late. And the two leaders of Rogue One had given their lives to save the last of the Resistance.

That was about nine months ago.

“I think so,” Poe answered, even he was confused. “When he spoke Festian, he did assume they were gone.”

Another pause.

“How are you?”

Poe frowned. “What do you mean _how are you_? I just got my nose broken,” he smiled, but the joy didn’t get to his eyes. “I had worse luck than that.”

“That wasn’t what I meant. I saw you stumble on your words when he said the name—”

“Stop.”

Finn wasn’t stupid. Only because he didn’t ask, it didn’t mean he didn’t know. He was there when Han Solo screamed Kylo Ren’s real name, when he called him son, he was there when General Organa told Luke Skywalker about her son. Rey kept calling him Ben. _Ben Solo_. Finn knew that man who led the First Order, had once been perhaps, a good man.

Finn put two and two together and assumed by the way Poe talked to General Organa and the other elders, that he had grown up with them as uncles and aunts. He knew the story about the tree planted on his home by Luke Skywalker. General Andor called him _Little Dameron_ and Commander Erso, though tough on her exterior, gave him a maternal look when she saw him. Even with this man, the one unconscious with an injury, Poe seemed to have been his friend. To have grown up with him. All those clues had left him believe one thing.

Poe Dameron had grown up with Ben Solo.

They probably were friends long ago. Finn wondered if they ever thought about what destiny held for them, if they thought it would turn out like this. He couldn’t imagine having to think of someone you grew up with as the enemy and have no doubt in ending his life.

Seeing as the cockpit grew with tension, Poe gave out what resembled a sigh but not in its totally thanks to his nose. “I’m sorry but there’s more to do than dwell on that conversation. We will arrive at Ajan Kloss in twenty four hours, we better rest meanwhile.”

Finn couldn’t form a word before Poe left.

* * *

Jaír jolted awake, regretting it as he felt the sharp pain on his side. He felt cold, unable to catch his breath and with a racing heart. Yet, as his eyes got used to the surroundings, he found himself in his ship.

“You’re awake.”

Jaír looked at his right and saw Poe’s friend. He was sitting down cleaning his blaster. He eyed him with certain disdain. Jaír would’ve liked to get himself to care about it but he didn’t. Instead, almost instinctively, his left hand was brought to his chest and he remembered he was breathing.

“Bad dream?” The man spoke again.

This time, Jaír was going to speak up. “Who the hell are you?”

“Finn.”

“Finn what?”

“Just Finn.”

 _Desertor_. The desertor. Jaír remembered vaguely about a desertor, it almost seemed comical how history was repeating itself. The desertor, searched throughout his galaxy for having something of upmost importance for the bad guys. He looked at the eyes of the man calling himself Finn. They weren’t as broken as the ones of his uncle, he didn’t seem as fragile as his uncle but the passion, the fiery determination was there. Almost identical to the one of his uncle.

But Jaír didn’t care if he had that same passion. He was more preoccupied that they were going back. That _he_ was returning. Then, he realized the spice, it was still in the ship. He panicked for a second.

“Please don’t tell me we’re going to Kijimi.”

Finn frowned, taken back by the question. “Why would we go to Kijimi?”

 _He doesn’t know_ , Jaír noted on the back of his mind. Poe’s friend— Finn, seemed to not know what was the past career of Poe. He took in consideration the fact that had happened decades ago, but found it a sign that Poe wasn’t quite proud of it and that his friendship didn’t seem as trusting as it could be. If Jaír really wanted to be an asshole, he could tell him, right there, how Poe delivered spice to Zorii but he wasn’t.

If Poe gave him his ship back, he wouldn’t tell him. If he didn’t, then he would find a way to escape. He didn’t care if he broke a few friendships along the way.

“Where are we going?”

“None of your business, all you have to know if that it’s twenty hours away.”

Yeah. Jaír was definitely not going to let Poe Dameron bring him back to the place he ran away from. He rather die than going back. He sighed and with incredible difficulty, he sat down. Took a minute to examine his injuries, the blaster shot in his arm had been treated, he was sure he had broken his arm but at least blood loss wasn’t a worry anymore, he felt his head throb and assumed he had a minor concussion and other aches here and there were basically another sign of losing that battle.

Without warning, he got up. The strength needed just to get up made his heart beat faster and need more air, the exhaustion he felt thanks to years of sleep deprivation made him stumble on his steps but managed to pull himself together just enough.

“What the heck are you doing? You’re not supposed to get up!”

“Look Finn,” Jaír treated with caution. “I don’t care if the First Order wins, I don’t care if evil reigns in this galaxy. All I care is surviving long enough to have gray hairs. I’m not going back. I rather die.”

Perhaps, wanting to see the outcome of his actions, Finn didn’t object. Jaír wanted to punch the man, but saw how he winced every time he walked, he remembered how he had threw him to a table. It wasn’t nice but Jaír wasn’t sorry for it. He had gotten between what he most loved in his life, freedom.

It was a huge difficulty to walk, he realized, the exhaustion was trying to engulf him again and he wanted to drop dead. He bit his inner lip to prove a point. His mother, she had endured worse, Saw Gerrera wasn’t a kind and soft man, he made tough and Jaír was her son, what kind of son would he be if he couldn’t prove himself to her?

He entered the cockpit to see Poe Dameron staring blankly at wall. For a second, Jaír saw something resembling grief and horror but it quickly washed away when Poe realized he had entered. He got up and his eyes found a new object. Jaír took a moment to examined him, the cut on his cheek didn’t seem to need stitches but his nose was broken.

“Get out of my ship,” he ordered.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Get the fuck out of my ship.”

Poe snorted. “You think you’re in a position to make demands? You have a broken arm, by the looks of it you’re gonna faint any time now and you don’t have any type of weapon at hand. I have a blaster and we outnumber you.”

“I will not go back. I left for a reason and I swore to my father I wouldn’t come back,” Jaír sneered. “I can at least take one of you, and for what I see, you’re the golden ticket.”

“Sit down, Jaír. That’s an order.”

Finn seemed to finally caught up with them. In a desperate move, Jaír grabbed the former stormtrooper by his shirt and with his good arm, put him in a chokehold. He was at a disadvantage but he was strong, he had the stamina, he wasn’t going to let Finn get away from him.

“I’ll ask one more time nicely, Poe, for the sake of our old friendship. Get the fuck out of my ship.”

Finn didn’t think it would’ve been that hard to break the chokehold but Jaír had also intertwined his legs in a position where that was his root and if Finn tried something, not only the would both fall, he had the possibility of cracking his skull open with the door. Unless Jaír weakened, it was better to not move.

Poe seemed unfazed by it. “No, be grateful we took your ship. We could’ve taken ours and this spice would’ve been lost.”

Jaír rolled his eyes. “Oh, as if you did out of the goodwill in you. I know you, Dameron, you are just planning ahead for the future of the Resistance. You know that the only way Zorii Bliss would let you take a step in Kimiji would be with my spice and my contacts. You’re saving this for another day, aren’t you?”

Finn frowned. What was with Kimiji and who was Zorii Bliss? He wondered why Jaír said it with such disdain and hatred and why Poe looked slightly hurt by the words.

“Stand down, _Captain_ Andor.”

_This is Captain Cassian Andor, Rebel Intelligence._

“Don’t call me that,” Jaír growled. “That’s not who I am.”

“Captain Jaír Andor Erso, Rebel Intelligence. That’s who you are.”

“I’m not going back to the fight. Look at you, all broken to pieces, I’m not going to turn into that.”

“Poe,” Finn croaked.

“You think you’re better? Look at you, for Force’s sake!”

“Anything’s better than going to the Resistance.”

Poe sighed and took something out of his pocket. It was a small holoprojector. Jaír was weary of it, thinking it was a trap, perhaps it was meant to be seen as a holoprojector but was really a weapon. He couldn’t keep with his thoughts when Poe clicked it and threw it to the floor.

Jaír immediately let go of Finn when he saw the figure come out of the box.

He looked older, much more older than the last time he saw him. His hair was gray, he looked even more exhausted than before, big bags under his eyes, those black eyes filled with melancholy and guilt. Yet he still looked respectable, wearing his insignia on his old worn out jacket. He stood straight, one leg favoring the other. He was thinner which made Jaír believe that he hadn’t taken proper care of himself. Which wasn’t a shock.

He had changed so much but still was the same man he remembered. Cassian Andor.

“ _If this is playing, it means that you have succeeded in finding Jaír Andor Erso_ ,” the recording spoke and then sighed. “ _Captain Andor Erso was part of the Operation Rogue One. He was a crucial part in it._ ”

Jaír cursed his father, so, his last speech was made so to make people know that his son was only needed because of a stupid operation. Operation Rogue One had been signaled as a failure even before it ever started, he remembered, his own father had sneered in his face telling him the odds of accomplishing it were close to zero. But Jaír at least took the moment to thank the stupid recording of his father to make it clear that he never wanted his son back, he wanted Captain Andor Erso, the Rebel Officer.

“ _Jaír, if you’re listening to this, you know what you have to do. I know that this might be difficult for you, coming back to a place where we had many misunderstandings. But realize this has nothing to do with your personal feelings. A good soldier would put his emotions apart, he would do what it took to win this war. This is for the greater good, your needs don’t matter in this subject. If you don’t wish to comply, you’ll be drop at the nearest inhabited planet as a disgrace of the Resistance._ ”

Jaír scoffed. He was amazed how he was about to enter an argument with a fucking recording of his father. Even after all those years, his father was still the emotionless asshole that choose the greater good over his family and called it necessity. He would’ve liked to lie to himself that it didn’t hurt, it didn’t hurt to hear the last words your father ever said being how much of a disgrace you were. How disappointed he would’ve been. He could only lied to the outsiders, he could only tell them that Cassian Andor could go fuck himself. But that didn’t change the fact that it hurt like hell.

“ _It’s an honor to be needed in the good fight and I hope you still remember what the right thing is. Sometimes you need to sacrifice yourself for the good of the galaxy. You were a great agent, one of the best and they need you now, you must go help them. Not for you but for them. This is not about us. It’s about a war,_ ” then the eyes of Cassian Andor softened. “ _I cannot imagine what you think of me. How much of my life has been wasted in this. Everything I’ve done was for the Rebellion, everything I didn’t do was for them too. All the horrors I’ve witnessed I convinced myself were for a cause that was worth it. If we don’t do this now, all we’ve fought for would’ve been for nothing._ ”

“You couldn’t face yourself if you gave up now, dad,” Jaír sighed.

 _“I couldn’t face myself I gave up now,_ ” then his posture changed and the General came back. “ _I know you’ll do what’s right, it’s in your blood. Remember you are my son, and your mother’s son. End communication._ ”

And just like that, Cassian Andor was gone. Leaving his son with a hole in his chest, the sick feeling of abandonment and disappointment feeling it. Like he always did.

“Now you understand?” Poe’s voice broke him from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Jaír forced a smile. “Duty above anything else. I surely wouldn’t want to be a disgrace to my father. Nothing’s more important than to give your life to a stupid cause.”

“Jaír—”

“No, I get it. It’s perfectly clear. You people don’t need _me_. You need Captain Andor Erso. I get it. But I’m not that guy anymore. I was never that man. So, here’s my plan. We go to wherever the fuck is your base and I’ll leave you guys and go back to my smuggling days.”

And he left.

Finn sighed. “That went well.”

“Oh, sure it did. But at least he’ll let us have some peace for now. When we go to base, that’s going to be another fight.”

“Are you okay?”

Poe shook his head and stretched out. “We are definitely not having this conversation again. I’m fine.”

“What did Kylo Ren do to you?”

“Finn, I already told you, he questioned me. I had to give him the answer to his questions. It’s really not that hard.”

Finn was a simple man. But he knew his friend hurt. Maybe not like Jaír Andor Erso did. But he hurt too. Poe wasn’t really in touch with his emotions. Finn knew he wore his mother’s ring in a necklace and that the Rebel insignia he wove into his jacket was his mother’s. But that was about it. Finn didn’t really know Kes Dameron, apart from some small talk. But he did know Poe. And Poe was hurting.

“I’ll talk to your old friend, make him reason, if you wish,” he offered, trying to take some stress off the pilot.

“You don’t need to.”

“His parents were good people with me. Perhaps he’s a bit ungrateful. It will be fine, don’t worry.”

“He didn’t choke, you did he?”

To be honest, Jaír had just held him in a position that looked like Finn was being chocked but was merely applying some force. The dude was more bluff but still, the images of him fighting in the bar, told Finn he really was a good agent.

“No, no he didn’t really harm me. Though now my back hurts even more!”

Poe chuckled and Finn felt satisfied that he had at least made Poe feel slightly better. He proceeded to look at Finn and put his hand on his shoulder. “He is not mad us, he isn’t mad at the Resistance.”

“Did he hit you in the head?” Finn joked. “He really seems to be hating on us.”

“He’s mad at his father. And perhaps, even mad at himself. Just treat with caution, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“He can’t possibly be in any position to try and hurt me.”

“I mean, with words. He hurts with words more than he hurts with fists.”

Finn nodded and exited the cockpit. The ship itself was really old but somehow spacious. He thanked the Force Rey didn’t convince Poe in taking the Millennium Falcon, only the Force knew what would the last Jedi do if she found out they lost it.

He found Jaír Andor Erso relative quickly, he was sitting down in the cold floor of the hall with his back on a wall. He looked exhausted.

“What are you doing here?” He sneered. “Come to tell me I should do the right thing?”

Finn didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled the holoprojector that General Organa had given him to locate the son of Cassian Andor. He opened it and it shone. The image dated seven years, it showed a young man, his posture straight with his hands behind his back, shorter hair and less facial hair, steady and serious look and the Rebel insignia which indicated his rank.

“This was the only clue we got to localize you.”

“Mmh, well, I would like to think I changed since that was taken. But it doesn’t matter, does it? You found me.”

“I knew your father and your mother.”

Jaír scoffed, looking down as he played with his shoelaces. “I bet you have. And I’m sure you’re here to tell me they were nice people.”

“They were good soldiers but yeah, they were good people. They cared. Your father—”

“You’re one of those people, those who think my father deserves to be called a hero. That he’s the best man in the galaxy.”

Finn sighed. “I don’t remember my father. General Andor gave me good advice, he helped me when I need it.”

“That’s great, I’m really happy for you,” Jaír scoffed. “He helped and gave you advice without yelling or insulting you. That’s awesome.”

“Your mother, I didn’t see her much with your father but she as well helped when she could, taught me how to fight. By what happened a few hours ago, I assume she taught you, too.”

“Are you really going to stand up all this time? You think I want to enable a conversation with a guy who’s stiff as a rock. For fuck’s sake, Fink, you’re not my father. Sit down.”

“It’s _Finn_ ,” he rolled his eyes and sat next to him.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Jaír snorted. “I thought stormtroopers didn’t have names.”

“My serial number was FN-2187 but everyone calls me Finn.”

“And, does that makes you what? A human? A name? I guess, isn’t Finn? You have an identity now. You’re someone.”

“You also have a name,” Finn said. “Jaír Andor Erso.”

Jaír laughed. Who the fuck wanted to have the name _Andor_ & _Erso_? Those names were condemned, the people who carried them were condemned. Those words carried an immense responsibility, history and guilt. Jaír hadn’t asked for them, he hadn’t asked to be the son of those people. To carry their name. He didn’t have an identity with them, he was simply their son.

Even his father — or the hologram of his father had told him so. They didn’t need him as a person, they needed the rebel officer. Jaír was a person didn’t matter, all that did were his skills and his names.

Well, fuck them.

Fuck them and fuck their Rebellion.

“What do _you_ know about me? We don’t know each other at all. What? Just because Cassian Andor gave you some advice and Jyn Erso trained you, you think you’re in every right to tell me who they were? Don’t make me laugh, you don’t even know Poe as well as you think you do.”

“And you do? You left them, you deserted them! You had caring parents, I saw them. You’re just like—!”

“Like who? _Ben_?”

Finn’s face told Jaír everything he needed to know. He smirked. “Oh, I see. Leia Organa and Han Solo, they looked like good people, right? And for some odd reason, their son became a fucking psychopath. You think I’m the same.”

“You sure as hell aren’t who you think you are,” Finn sneered. “All you’ve done is try to kill us. And we’re in the same side.”

“No, that’s where you’re wrong. We are definitely not in the same side. All I wanted is a peaceful life, indeed being a smuggler isn’t quite the most peaceful profession but I was fine. You guys only want what’s good for you. _Duty above everything and everyone_. We are not in the same side.”

Jaír knew the dark side of the Rebellion. He knew it by heart. It just took everything you had and left you with nothing. It made you realize that you had no one to begin with. The only constant in your life was the Alliance, and you would serve her until your ultimate death. Isn’t that what his father had planned?

His mother, Jyn Erso, against everyone, against her own nature, chose to stay in that goddamn Rebellion just because of Cassian Andor. She relearned everything because of love. Because she knew that nothing was above love and family.

His father, Cassian Andor, couldn’t do the same choice. It was against his nature and his moral code to leave the Alliance when he knew he could make the world a better place. He chose his duty above anyone he ever loved. So concentrated in making the galaxy a better place he lost his own family. His own son.

Why would Jaír want to become that?

Who would ever want to become that?

“Go back to Poe. Fuck off. Leave alone.”

Finn sighed and looked at the man one last time as he stood up. “Want me to be honest with you? I didn’t know General Andor and Commander Erso had a son until Poe told me. They never spoke of you.”

Finn would’ve liked to see a reaction of hurt perhaps, but Jaír shrugged it off. Finn didn’t understand. Were Andor and Erso such bad parents that their son didn’t care they never talked about him? Was his hatred of the Rebellion so big that he was happy they didn’t think of him? Finn couldn’t even guess. He shook his head and proceeded to leave the man to his own thoughts.

When Jaír was sure that stupid stormtrooper was gone and that no one would disturb him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The tears fell without a sound.


End file.
